The American psychological thriller You returns for a fifth and final season on Netflix, bringing our charming stalker/serial killer Joe Goldberg (Penn Badgley) back to New York City. Joe appears to be settling into his version of a happily ever after -- married, powerful and rich -- but, of course, things aren't that simple. His picture-perfect life is threatened by ghosts from his past and the ever-lurking shadows of his twisted compulsions. And just a heads-up: we're diving into full spoilers here. So, if you haven't watched this season -- or the entire series -- you might want to come back later.
It's hard to believe it's been seven years since You premiered in 2018. Like many others, it quickly became one of the shows that grabbed my attention. There was something oddly captivating about Joe. He's a complete weirdo, an obsessive romantic, a literary nerd and most importantly, a deeply disturbed individual. But somehow, he pulls us in. Despite knowing how wrong he is -- how truly dangerous --many of us found ourselves weirdly rooting for him. That speaks volumes not just about the character, but also about the power of storytelling in the age of anti-heroes.
Still, as much as I enjoyed the early seasons, You definitely overstayed its welcome.
I personally think the show peaked with Seasons 2 and 3. Those seasons still felt fresh and while they pushed the boundaries of believability, they stayed grounded enough to remain compelling. But Season 4? That absurd London-based storyline was when things really started unravelling for me. Joe finds another wealthy woman, gets involved in yet another elite social circle and -- surprise -- kills more people. At that point, I was just ready for the ride to end. And honestly, it felt like the show's writers were scrambling for ways to keep the concept alive even after it had exhausted its most interesting themes.
Madeline Brewer in You.
So when I heard Season 5 would bring Joe back to New York, I was cautiously optimistic. There's always something poetic about a story coming full circle. And to the show's credit, it does try to recapture the magic of the first season. We return to the bookstore. The glass cage in the basement makes an appearance. There's even a new employee, Bronte (played by Madeline Brewer), who vaguely echoes Beck (Elizabeth Lail) in both presence and significance. The premise is once again centred on Joe's insatiable need for love, attention and control.
But despite that nostalgic set-up, many of the new elements in Season 5 feel unnecessary. It's as if the writers were dead-set on drawing a neat connection between this season and the first -- regardless of whether that made any sense. Bronte, in particular, felt like a forced insert. Her ties to Beck and the son of Beck's therapist from season one felt like too much of a stretch, like fan fiction rather than cohesive storytelling. She plays a major role this season, but to me, that role should've gone to someone more organically integrated into the story. It's not that I disliked her as a character -- I just didn't see the point of her being the narrative glue.
As the season progressed, I found myself increasingly bewildered by how Joe kept falling into these ridiculous circles of influence and power. He's a former bookstore manager, not a tech CEO or Wall Street tycoon, yet here he is -- married to Kate (Charlotte Ritchie), a ridiculously wealthy woman and essentially living as a celebrity. That alone already stretched logic. But then halfway through the season, Joe suddenly has a change of heart.
He starts questioning his place in the world, battling his killer instinct while attempting to be a better husband and father. That part piqued my interest again. It was familiar -- very Joe -- but also introduced some emotional complexity that had been missing from earlier episodes.
Speaking of performances, I was pleasantly surprised by Anna Camp this season. She plays twin sisters Reagan and Maddie Lockwood -- Kate's half-sisters -- and even though they look identical, their personalities couldn't be more different. Camp really gives each sister their own distinct energy and I thought that dynamic was one of the stronger parts of this season. As always, Penn Badgley delivers. His portrayal of Joe is seamless. He can gaslight with elegance and shift from charming to chilling in a heartbeat. In fact, I'd say this might be his best performance across the entire series.
Yet even with strong acting, the pacing of the season is all over the place. Some arcs are dragged out unnecessarily while others are cut short just as they become interesting. It felt like Netflix might have given the writers a mandate to stretch things out for a full 10-episode run even if the story didn't warrant it. Like many viewers, I came into this season hoping Joe would finally get what's coming to him -- whether that was prison or death. And although the show teases that outcome multiple times, it never commits. It keeps pulling back at the last second.
Another major gripe I had was how underused returning characters like Nadia (Amy-Leigh Hickman) and Marienne (Tati Gabrielle) were. After what Joe did to Nadia at the end of season four -- something that genuinely disturbed me even more than many of his previous murders -- I expected her to play a significant role in his downfall. Instead, she barely factors in. The same goes for Marienne, who's relegated to a few scenes and then fades out. It felt like a disservice to both characters and the audience.
And then there's Kate. Her arc frustrated me the most. She's been complicit in Joe's actions, cold and calculating in her own way, but by the end, she's handed a redemption arc with zero accountability. She somehow emerges as a hero -- or at least that's what the narrative tries to convince us -- and that didn't sit right with me. It's as if the writers wanted to give her a free pass just because Joe is worse. But being the lesser of two evils doesn't make someone good.
The final episode, which should've been explosive, ends up feeling rushed and oddly subdued. Joe finally gets caught and we see him in jail -- but then the tone shifts again, suggesting that even this might not be the end. There's this vague, open-ended feeling, as if they're leaving the door ajar for a potential return. Maybe a spin-off, maybe a Dexter: New Blood–style continuation years down the line. Personally, I think they should've just killed him off. That would've packed the kind of punch this show was once known for.
Still, there's something satisfying about seeing Joe in a prison cell, reading fan mail, delivering his signature monologue and turning the blame on us -- the audience. It's a clever, if slightly heavy-handed, meta-commentary on our complicity. After all, we did keep watching. We did root for him.
In the end, I'm just glad this show is finally wrapping up. It had an incredible start. It said something sharp and disturbing about obsession, romance and the dangers of idealising toxic behaviour. But after season three, it began to feel like a cash grab, driven more by its popularity than by any creative vision.
At least Netflix allowed it to have closure. And despite its flaws, the final season -- like the series as a whole -- offers a fascinating, often uncomfortable look into psychological obsession. It makes you question where love ends and control begins. You might not have stuck the landing, but it remains a compelling, twisted tale that I, for better or worse, couldn't look away from.
- You (Season 5)
- Starring Penn Badgley, Charlotte Ritchie, Anna Camp
- Created by Michael Foley and Justin W. Lo
- Now streaming on Netflix
